ArchivedLogs:Parking Information

Parking Information
Afternoon, Officer!
Dramatis Personae Micah, Kyle Whelan
In Absentia	2 June 2013 A surprisingly pleasant conversation between Micah and Kyle.
Location Micah's TARDIS-Van
Yes, this /is/ a precisely TARDIS-blue converted cargo van. Thick white curtains, sectioned off into six rectangles within each rear window, are almost always drawn. A company logo of a gorilla propelling a racing wheelchair is emblazoned on each side. It is occasionally towing a small trailer unit painted up like a short, squat AT-AT. It stands out a bit. The TARDIS-van is, unfortunately, not bigger on the inside. It is downright claustrophobic. The general feel is akin to the interior of an ambulance, minus the luxury of space for a stretcher. Instead, there is /stuff/. Like a mad combination of garage, clothier's shop, and storage facility, every inch of space is being put to its most efficient use. There is a single work station at the far side that resembles a workbench bred with a sewing table. Cabinets, bins, and drawers that all latch (or even lock) for secure transport are filled with a plethora of rolls of hook-and-loop materials, sheets of neoprene, sheets of thermoplastic, assorted padding and foam materials, thread of vastly varying thicknesses, collections of metal rods and other metallic trinkets, a large garage-style toolbox, moulds, containers of casting supplies, a heat gun, dozens of types of scissors and shears and razors... It would take /forever/ to catalogue everything. If one looks hard enough, they may also discover some personal effects neatly stowed: clothing, blankets, a gym bag, maybe half a box of cereal. The beginning of June seems to have ushered in an early Summer, which seems all the more out of place after a strangely cold and grey Spring. It is Sunny and Warm outside today, especially with the Yellow Face beaming down in all of its midday glory. Micah is hiding out in the back of his van, parked in a less busy region of the East Village, still catching up on worked missed from the last week’s insanity. He is applying some ridiculously /neon/ pink hook-and-loop straps, with foam padding to match, to a custom resting hand splint. It looks like a weirdly folded piece of plastic that has been decorated with little roses and butterflies from transfer paper. The orthotist is fully absorbed in his work…and singing along to Zeppelin’s “Dancing Days” playing on the radio. Knock knock knock! It's kind of sharp and commanding from the outside of the van. It is someone who is used to their knocking being Not Ignored. Outside Kyle -- well, he mostly looks kind of bored, really. Kind of hot. Police uniformy. It is very recognizable blue. There is sweat beaded on his face. He is scowling upwards at the SUN. Curses, sun. There is some thudding as Micah hears and interprets the knock and proceeds to extricate himself from his pile of equipment. The radio switches off. Then a Micah-form comes clambering up into the driver’s seat. He is wearing washed-out blue jeans and a black T-shirt depicting a stick figure with an Erlenmeyer flask and a calculator, amidst the words ‘STAND BACK I’M GOING TO TRY SCIENCE’. A peek out the window earns first an arched brow, then a hint of an easy smile. He rolls the window down. “Afternoon, Officer. How are you today? Somethin’ I can help you with?” Kyle's scowl vanishes as he looks back down to Micah; it's replaced first with bland neutrality but then subsequently derailed by a quick smile. "Hey," he says, in mildly pleased surprise, nodding towards Micah's shirt. "My kid loves that, uh, that website, I got her that --" He gestures towards the shirt. "She has that thing." That somewhat tentative smile morphs into Micah’s typical lopsided grin as the officer /doesn’t/ growl at him as anticipated. “Smart kid,” he opines with a playful wink. “You got just the one?” He notes the too-hot uniform and beaded sweat in the unrelenting sun. “S’hotter than the hinges of Hades out there today. You need a water? I got bottles in the back.” "Jesus, yeah, she's kind of --" Now the smile shifts, it is sort of typically parent-proud, "-- bright as hell. Her and her brother both -- got the two. He's crazy about computers, you know, she's more into -- I don't know, wants to be a /biochemist/." He shakes his head slightly like he doesn't quite understand this! But. Looks pleased all the /same/. "Maaan, I would not say no. Summer's coming early. Kind of hell on bike shifts. What, uh --" He sounds more /curious/ than challenging, waving to the rather distinctive van, "what kinda business you in?" Micah chuckles softly at that. “Girl after my own heart. How young did she decide on that one? I always /loved/ biology. Got in more on the physiology and kinesiology side of things, though.” He nods at the follow-up question, which leads easily from his own nattering. “Medical assistive technology. Work in prosthetics and orthotics primarily--limb replacement and bracing. Do the general sort of walking aids and seating and wheelchairs and such, too. Let me get that water an’ hop right back.” There is more scrambling as Micah disappears into the back again, emerging with a pair of sealed water bottles. He passes one of these out the window as he settles back into his seat. "Oh, last year it was a doctor and the year before that an electrical freaking engineer. She's, uh, she'll be eleven this month." Kyle leans against the door of the van as Micah disappears into the back. His gaze roves the front cabin with a sort of idle disinterest, but he perks up again at the appearance of water. "/Thank/ you." For a moment that is all he says, twisting open the bottle and chugging a third of it down. "Oh! Huh, that's -- that's neat. Why's a monkey?" He kind of leans away from the van to peer at the gorilla on the side. "That mean something?" “’Welcome,” Micah says with a bit of a nod as Kyle takes the water. “Too hot for y’all to be out there in layers without keepin’ hydrated.” He opens his own bottle, sipping from it with less enthusiasm. “Oh, eleven. Let her keep changin’ her mind as often as /possible/ at that age. S’half the fun of bein’ little.” His fingers drum on the steering wheel. “S’a gorilla. I’m a mobile operation--work out of clinics in several hospitals an’ do home visits much of the time. So, it was gonna be /guerrilla/, like springin’ up outta nowhere, y’know? But I work with a lot of kids and military vets who’ve seen action, so…I thought it might be a good idea to fluff it up a bit.” "Gorilla. Guerilla. S'cute," Kyle opines, with a sort of huff like maybe 'cute' is a thing he disapproves of. But it doesn't make his smile fade, really. He gulps at the water again. "Sounds like good work you do. Hey, look, I really just stopped to tell you there's a --" He gestures up the street, towards a church a couple blocks away. "A thing," he's not very /helpfully/ explicative, "but there's gonna be event parking all down these blocks, you're gonna have to move this, uh." This time he gestures towards the van, as if Micah might have been confused about what he meant. "Or you'll end up with a ticket later on this evening. You go a street over, you'll be alright." “That’s the general idea,” Micah returns with a bit of a giggle. “Oh, hey, thanks for the warnin’. I hang out in one place for a long time sometimes, so I don’t always see if they post signs /after/ I set in. I’ll split in a sec. Try an’ keep cool out there, yeah?” "Thanks," Kyle offers, with a crooked twitch of smile. "I'm trying, freaking sun won't cooperate though." He lifts his bottle in salute, claps a hand against Micah's van -- like patting it! good boy! -- and heads back across the street to where his bike leans against a lamppost, gulping the rest of his water down as he goes. Tossing it into a trashcan. And then. VROOM. As much as you can vroom on a bicycle.